Haunted
by Annie2
Summary: Skinner thinks about Scully - a lot.
1. Default Chapter

Haunted By Annie Summary: Skinner thinks about Scully – a lot. Disclaimer: The usual. Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net 

_Skinner's Office_

He listened to the silence in his office; no, not total silence - he could hear the office sounds drifting in under the door; the computer, the copy machine, the low murmur of voices beyond his outer waiting room, the footsteps past his door, the soft burring of the phone on his secretary's desk. Just one demanding call after another. He demanded from those beneath him, and those above him demanded things of him in turn. The report on his desk demanded his attention now, and he didn't want to give it. He wanted to daydream, and knew it was not appropriate. 

Of course, if it had been her report - Scully's - instead of the mediocre agent investigating some fraud or other, then he would give it his undivided attention. Drinking in every official word, knowing her own warm fingers had touched the keys to form the words. This, he knew, was inappropriate also. 

Walter Skinner was haunted. 

Haunted by memories he did not possess in reality; memories he could only fabricate in his mind. 

Haunted by the soft flame of hair. 

Haunted by a green velvet glance. 

Haunted by a sight he had never seen - Dana Scully, sitting across from his desk in her official status, reporting, or answering questions. 

Scully, in his fantasy finally able to see through his pseudo-professional demeanor to the smoldering man beneath the facade of Assistant Director. 

Dana, who he would like to see get up from the chair and walk slowly to his desk, enticingly, leaning over so he could just reach right out and cup one breast, what he was sure was a perfect breast, in his hand; to stand up behind the desk and lean toward her, slowly, looking into her eyes, and kiss her, ever so gently, a prelude to ferocious things yet to come. 

Haunted by unreal visions, supported by the familiar background of his days. 

And his nights. 

-----

_Mulder's Office_

He listened to the silence of Mulder's office through the closed door. No, not total silence - he could hear the soft click of fingers on a keyboard beyond the door. 

But, whose fingers? 

Well, he had an excuse - a report was overdue. 

He hesitated, then knocked softly, opening the door and entering the basement office at Agent Mulder's behest. 

Walter Skinner made the motions mechanically of reminding his errant agent about the tardy report. This one was strictly Mulder's responsibility. Too bad, Skinner would rather have called Scully about it. 

Haunted, especially here. 

Haunted by a lingering scent - not masculine, but hers surely. He would gladly stay there the rest of the day and night, just to inhale her. The thought flashed through his distracted brain that Mulder must go light on the cologne, just to make sure he could smell Scully all day. Skinner would

He mumbled something about Agent Scully having gone home - that was good -she shouldn't overdo things. 

Haunted by the cancer sleeping in remission in her wondrous body.

He took his leave, closing the door and taking several steps away before he stopped in the deserted hallway. He leaned against the cool wall, breath quickening in his muscular chest. Familiar aching in his groin. 

Haunted still - more visions. 

Scully, coming out of the office, somewhat surprised and concerned to find him there, leaning, eyes closed. 

Scully, expressing her worriment - touching his throat to feel pulse and temperature. He could will her hand to move from his neck to his face. Will her other hand to join it, holding his face, pulling his head down, down to hers, to find sweet lips at the end if the journey, warm, wet and yielding. Slowly intensifying, open-mouthed kisses, inciting his body to riot. 

He pulled himself away from the wall and continued on. 

-----

_Garage_

He listened to the total silence in the parking garage beneath the building. No, not total silence, he could hear the cool-down tick of an engine somewhere near where he stood. He could hear another car starting farther off in the dark, leaving, as he was. 

It was dark, and he was haunted. 

Haunted on the way to his car, passing the empty slot where he knew her car had been earlier today. Climbing into his own car, feeling at last alone and unobserved. Turning on the ignition, some song coming from the dashboard, reminding him of her. Of course, they all reminded him of her. Rock, rhythm, blues, country - it didn't matter - it was the primal beat beneath all the music. The primal beat he would use when he penetrated her, given the chance.

Haunted by music. 

Haunted by the fact of her being here only an hour ago. Maybe less. So haunted that he thought if he got down on his hands and knees on the concrete and put his face on the floor he could probably sniff out her footprints. Track her. Trap her. Catch her. 

It was dark, and he was alone and haunted. No one around, and he forcefully resisted the urge to touch himself. If she were here, he would will her to do it - will her to reach out and grasp his cock, not too tightly, just enough to drive him mad. He was already mad - haunted. Every minute, every second, every day. 

He would will the wonderful hand to move up and down, teasingly over the head, all the way down, all the way back up. 

His hands had found himself against his will, and he opened his eyes. Put the car in gear and drive, Walter, he told himself. Must go home.

-----

He listened to the total silence of his apartment - no, not total silence, the refrigerator was running, and he could almost imagine the traffic sounds from way below his balcony. 

He shoved her from his mind and looked in the kitchen. Nothing appealed to him, he still had half an erection and he would have to do something about it or he would go crazy. 

He turned on the shower and she was there again. 

Haunted by her always. 

Every minute, every second, every day. 

He gave in and let the ghost in his head take him. 

He let the shower run to steam up the bathroom, and went to his bedside. 

He closed his eyes, and his big hands turned into her petite ones. They removed his suit coat, tossing it aimlessly on the bed. They loosened his tie, drawing it from around his neck sensually. It left the fingers to drop to the floor, forgotten. The hands opened the buttons on his starched white shirt slowly, the sound of the shower taunting him, somehow calling his attention to the fact that he was alone. 

The shirt was on the floor now, also forgotten, and he could almost smell her. 

Haunted. 

The hands undid the belt buckle and fly, brushing an erection he hadn't even realized he had. The pants and shoes and socks were on the floor. 

The hands slid his briefs down his strong legs to the floor, and he stepped out of them. 

One of the hands grabbed the huge cock - not too tightly, firm velvet, as he had imagined so many times. 

Haunted. 

He wanted to take himself right there, right next to the bed, but he turned to the shower, forced himself to release the aching organ and step into the white heat of the shower spray. 

He was soaping himself up, soaping himself up and down, pounding into her in his mind, kissing, teasing, licking. He could feel her hands clutching him to her, and he came explosively into the hot waterfall. 

Scully. 

Every minute, every second, every day. 

End Part 1

Part 2 


	2. Spellbound

Haunted Part 2: Spellbound By Annie Summary: Scully thinks about Skinner Disclaimer: Not mine. Rated: R Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net 

She looked through the file cabinet drawer idly, having already put away the folder she had been working on. Her hair; its' color of certain autumn leaves particularly brilliant in the florescent lights today, hid her face as she bent her head in feigned file interest. She was listening. 

Listening to the soft clack of Mulder's fingers, trying to get his report done. It was late, and AD Skinner was waiting for it impatiently. 

Listening to the silence of the office, of the hallway outside the door. No one ever walked down the hallway, unless their destination was Spooky Mulder's office. No one ever came looking for Agent Scully. 

Even when HE, when Skinner- called down from his lofty, plush domain, it was always for Mulder. 

Her heart flipped over at the thought of her boss. She decided that if the telephone rang before she left, she would be sure to answer it herself. 

She wanted to listen to him. To the pitch and timbre of his voice, wanted to hear him order her to do things unrelated to investigative work. She wanted to hear the voice, the voice that turned her insides to hot, seeking mush. Wanted to hear him order her to investigate him. 

She knew these thoughts were inappropriate. 

Her boss had a spell on her. A spell of lust he knew nothing about. 

She was, undeniably, spellbound.Spellbound by the hard voice.Spellbound by the hard body.Spellbound by the image of everything hard his body could offer. 

She pushed the file drawer shut with a frustrated bang that startled her partner and brought her back to her senses. 

She left. 

She walked slowly down the hall outside the AD's office, wracking her brain. She had already gone up five more floors than was necessary, when she should have been going down, Going down, what a wonderful thought. 

Couldn't she think of even one tiny excuse to see him? Anything at all? 

No dice. She went past the door, imagining him there, behind the desk in his crisp white shirt, an image she had seen so often that it was always the first thing that came to her mind. 

She wanted to see a different image. Wanted to see him stand up, take off the shirt and tie; take off the demeanor he wore like a shield all the time. She wanted to see him smile, she wanted to be the one to make him smile. She wanted him to take her on his vast expanse of desk. 

She wanted to see him at home, relaxing. Maybe with herself relaxing right next to him. Maybe in bed. Hopefully naked. 

Spellbound by the walls he stood behind. 

Spellbound by the thought of how delicious he would look if he would only smile. 

She quickened her pace and went to the elevator. 

She stopped outside the elevator in the parking garage below the building. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and automatically went to his reserved parking space. He was still here, of course. She had to pass his car on the way to hers, paused to walk slowly around the vehicle, jealous of the door handle he had touched, of the seat his body had touched; jealous of the steering wheel and the gear shift he had his hands on the entire time he was in the car. She glanced around surreptitiously - no one around to see her, casing his car like a thief in the dark. She hated herself for this. 

Spellbound by touching the door handle he had touched eight or nine hours ago. If the car wasn't locked, she knew she would actually open the door, knew without a doubt that the interior of the car would smell just like him, sending her into spasms of need and want, like being in his office. 

Spellbound by his nearness. 

Spellbound by the totally masculine, sensual scent of him. 

She forced herself to go to her own car and go home. 

Home was worse. Home was empty, and she needed - something. No, she needed someone, a particular, large, well-built, commanding someone.She sighed and went to run some hot, hot water into the tub, adding copious amounts of bubble bath. A shower simply wouldn't do.

She closed her eyes, slipping out of her clothes, dropping them to the floor, wanting to have him there watching, wanting to see dark desire in his eyes, as she revealed herself to him. Wanted him to be spellbound by her presence - haunted by her absence. 

She stepped into the too-hot water, her mind giving the heat the weight it would need to equal him on her body. She yearned to feel his weight on her, crushing her, commanding her. 

Her hands drifted through the warmth, found her nipples and played there, pretending to be his, tantalizing, enjoying. 

She sank even lower in the big tub, the hot water on her cheek becoming his hot breath. How she longed to taste his mouth, his nipples, his cock. How she longed to be tasted. His power over her was unrelenting, and her hands roamed further down, down between her legs, where she could finally give herself some release. Release that left only emptiness and wanting. 

Wanting more. 

Wanting him. 

Possessed by a man who had no idea that the mere thought of him could turn her inside out. Owned heart and soul by a human being who walked the hallways of her life day after day, oblivious. 

End Part 2


	3. Amused

Haunted Part 3: Amused By Annie Summary: Mulder makes keen observations Rated R Disclaimer: Not mine Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net 

Fox Mulder was not stupid. As oblivious as he may have seemed to his everyday surroundings, busy with his own personal driving quests, he noticed the people around him a lot more than they thought he did. 

When his red-headed partner slammed the file drawer shut, in what could only have been complete frustration, he almost jumped out of his seat, but he was an expert at the art of total composure. He had a good poker face. She left in a hurry, and he knew she didn't have a date or anything; she just had to get out of the office. He had already seen the feigned interest in the filing cabinet, with her keen mind floating elsewhere. He had also already seen the way her ears tried not to perk up when he answered the phone on his desk and it was the AD. 

An hour or so later, when the AD himself showed up, with some lame excuse about looking for the report that Mulder had already told him would be on his desk in the morning, Dana Scully's partner almost laughed. Almost, but not quite; couldn't quite bring himself to give credence to the look of disappointment on his boss's face. 

The AD took abrupt leave, too, and Mulder stood by the closed door of his office, almost sure Skinner had stopped in the hall. Oh, well, he had work to do. He had to get home himself sometime.

But the work would not stay in his mind. He knew this had been brewing for months, now, unobtrusively, unbeknownst to the two principals involved. He knew Scully as intimately as he could without having actually slept with her. And he was pretty sure he knew AD Skinner, as well. Neither one of them was as good at hiding their feelings as they thought.

Mulder leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes thoughtfully. What if Skinner was going to Scully's apartment, instead of his own? What if Mulder waited an hour or so, and called her on the phone? Would she act normal, or would he get the idea that something was up? 

Something would be up, all right, he thought, imagining the scene for himself. He had already seen Scully in various stages of undress, and what he hadn't seen, his mind had no trouble conjuring up for him. 

And he had seen Walter Skinner in various stages of undress as well, in the gym here in the building. He had no trouble at all seeing a naked AD Skinner in Scully's apartment. 

He let his thoughts fly by themselves. 

Skinner would knock on the door; not too loudly, just enough to make sure she heard. Scully would, of course, let him in. She would probably be wearing something soft and comfortable, maybe a long shirt and some leggings, or something like that. The picture changed. Maybe she'd be wearing nothing at all.

No, she had to wear clothes, so Skinner could revel in removing them. Mulder smiled tightly. The thought of Skinner removing Dana's clothes brought an aching to his groin that would be best left alone. There was work to be done, after all. 

But the scene, once in his mind, continued vividly.

Skinner, walking into Scully's apartment, dropping his overcoat on a chair carelessly, and without a single word of hello the brawny ex-Marine would attack her mouth with his savagely, making her gasp, making her wet. 

He would stop then, quickly, so she wouldn't get too used to the sensation of tasting him, and ask her for a glass of wine or something, anything, just so he could watch her figure as she walked away from him. His eyes would burn right through her clothes; maybe he already knew what she looked like without them, and maybe he didn't, but he'd be finding out pretty quickly. 

She would pour wine with shaky hands; Scully led quite a solitary life, and if she was fucking anybody, Mulder certainly didn't know how she was managing to do it without his knowing. They spent practically every waking moment together. And he had a sneaking suspicion with whom she spent every sleeping, dreaming moment. 

His litrle daydream progressed past some small talk, through a few tiny, seeking kisses, through Skinner massaging one breast through the soft shirt, and then breathing into her ear that she had to take it off, right away.

She would, of course, in this dream, because Mulder would not tolerate anything interfering with his erotic vision. He was a voyeur now, watching as the two stumbled, still kissing and caressing, into Scully's bedroom, to fall on the bed and practically tear each other's clothes off. Skinner would be hard and glorious. Mulder wondered suddenly which of the two naked dream-people was making his own cock so hard. Scully was beautiful, of course. In his vision, she would be perfect. Skinner, on the other-hand, hard as he was and big as he was, mesmerized Mulder to distraction. 

He finally had to give in and take his cock out of his pants, stroking it to the rhythms he could imagine seeing on Scully's bed. Breathing harshly for the two people in his daydream, spying on an act that wasn't even happening, but was going to tear his insides out in a moment or two. 

Mulder was going to explode soon, but they had to do it first. 

Scully, hardly breathing at all, getting to climb over the brink into spasms of ecstasy; Mulder almost made it with her, but he waited. 

Skinner, now that Scully was satisfied, grinding down into her with all his might, growling into her ears, wordless nothings, finally coming with gut-wrenching force, as Mulder did the same in his chair. 

Mulder shook his head, amused. He wondered idly if they had the same thoughts about each other, and vowed to pay even closer attention from now on. 

At home, Scully was in her bubblebath; Skinner in his shower. 

All was not right with the world just yet. 

End Part 3

Part 4 


	4. Hungry

Haunted Part 4: Hungry By Annie Summary: A meeting in the cafeteria Rated R Disclaimer: Not mine Feedback: crehnert@ptd.net 

Walter Skinner, standing at his big office window, let out an almost audible sigh of frustration. Raining, again. And at lunchtime, again. This had been going on all week now, and the AD was about sick of ordering and eating in his office alone. He knew who he'd rather be eating, that was, eating with, he corrected himself grimly. Get hold of yourself, Skinner.

Not that he was afraid to go out in the rain, he was just sick of looking at it. Well, he would have to break down and eat in the cafeteria downstairs, something he tried his best to avoid under normal circumstances. 

He was alone in the elevator on the way down to the first floor, and he was sorely tempted to go to the basement instead. He could almost picture himself knocking on the door of Fox Mulder's basement office, and asking Agent Scully to do lunch. Or do him. Or join him for lunch. Or join him for anything. Maybe in bed, his brain tickled his already-aching lust for the redhead.

Forget that - he got off on the first floor and went to the cafeteria.

The big room was pretty crowded, mostly with agents who abhorred the rain as he did. It always reminded him of the jungles, somehow, and that was a time best forgotten.

His heart skipped a beat when his dark gaze fell on his two most exasperating agents, siting at a table for four, apparently engrossed in a lively discussion, argument maybe, about some ungodly subject, no doubt.

Skinner had to tear his eyes away from Dana Scully forcefully. He had come down here because he was hungry - but now he was ravenous. The empty sensation in his stomach abruptly transformed into an empty ache in his groin. And he'd been doing so well today, too.

He got in line and plopped some hot roast beef and potatoes on his tray, with a side salad and some carrots. He didn't even want to eat now - his stomach was not the organ that needed satiating.

He had just turned away from the line to look for an empty seat, and he almost walked right into Agent Mulder, who was apparently in the process of taking his dessert back to his table. Skinner eyed the soft-serve ice cream, with the whipped cream and the single cherry centered perfectly. The whipped cream made him hungry again, for something to lick the stuff from, and the dish as a whole reminded him of a breast - more specifically a firm, rosy-tipped breast, hopefully with Skinner's hand or mouth on it. Hopefully Dana Scully's. His heart skittered erratically at the thought, and he brought himself under strict control.

"Eating with the lowly agents today, Sir?" Mulder asked brightly.

"A man has to have sustenance, Agent Mulder," he grumbled in reply, casting his glance around again in search of an empty seat.

"There's room at our table," Mulder pointed out needlessly. "Join us! I'm sure Agent Scully won't mind."

Mulder turned without waiting for an answer, and without looking back to see if the boss was following him, which of course, Mulder knew he was. 

He snickered inwardly. This would be amusing, Mulder thought.

Skinner had fallen into step behind him fatalistically. There was nothing else to do; he'd just have to get through it as well as he could, and then he'd probably have to go into his bathroom in his office and pound his cock into his own hand just so he could get through the rest of the day. Something he had already done numerous times with Dana Scully's body in his mind.

Agent Scully, for her own part omitting dessert from this meal, looked upon the approaching duo with trepidation. She tried mightily to keep the breath-stealing image of a naked, well-toned Assistant Director out of her head. It was difficult enough under normal circumstances; in this informal setting, it would be impossible. He wasn't even seated at the table yet, and she could feel herself getting hot and wet. 

She pretended to be picking through the remains of her chef salad as the two men seated themselves, surreptitiously keeping a hungry eye on the bulge at Skinner's crotch. You're base and disgusting, she told herself, wondering vaguely what Fox Mulder was smiling about.

Mulder, actually, was enjoying this little midday episode. The sexual tension at this table was exhilarating to him. He saw how his boss worked diligently at eating, while making small talk and trying to keep his eyes from wandering constantly to Scully's chest. And he had definitely caught his partner's sidelong glance at the AD's torso as he sat down.

The small talk was dwindling down, and Mulder was annoyed with waiting for something to happen.

"So," he asked, "We all satisfied? Nobody hungry anymore?"

Scully shot him the look of death. "I was just about to go back to work," she told him, reaching to gather her dish, glass and silverware to take to the disposal area. Skinner reached out to gather them up with his at the same time, and their hands collided. They both yanked them away quickly, much to Mulder's amusement.

"Scully," Mulder suggested, rising from his seat. "Why don't you keep the Assistant Director company while he eats his dessert?"

With that, he walked away and left them alone at the table. 

Scully met Skinner's gaze directly, something she hadn't been able to do for quite some time. Her blue eyes were challenging him, and melting his insides. They were affecting something else, too, but it wasn't melting, quite the opposite. 

Scully was totally surprised to see the darkness of hunger in his eyes, swallowing her own gaze as if Skinner was eating her alive right at that moment.

"Are you having any, Sir?" she asked softly.

His brave, ex-Marine heart stopped abruptly, and he almost choked on nothing.

"Am I having any?" he repeated.

"Dessert," she prompted him, still keeping her gaze on his, almost like offering her own sight as a sacrifice to the desire she sensed in him.

"No," he replied. "No dessert. I usually only have dessert if I eat dinner out. I don't do it very often."

The image of the AD 'doing it' came screaming into Scully's brain. Like she would, if he so much as touched her. She licked her upper lip nervously at the thought, and his eyes abandoned hers to dive right to her mouth, the image of her tongue on certain body parts suffusing him with molten hunger. Mostly the image of her tongue on the tip of his cock.

"You should do it often," she told him quietly, moving to pick up her tray and leave her seat.

Suddenly, Skinner had a flash of insight that told him Scully was definitely not referring to going out to dinner and eating dessert. Eating something else, maybe. Someone else, hopefully.

"Yes,. I should," he agreed, gathering his own lunch things together. "Would you like to do it with me?"

Scully all but dropped the tray, invaded as she was with the roiling, stomach-turning desire his words instilled in her. But he was playing word games, she realized. 

She calmed herself in a flash, once more meeting his gaze head-on."I would love to do it with you, Sir," she replied.

"Okay then," he said, thinking. "How about that little Italian place about three blocks from here? Maybe 7:30? Shall I meet you, or pick you up?"

"Pick me up. You're on!" she accepted.

On top, he hoped.

Scully turned and walked away, shaking inwardly, outward calm belying the turmoil inside.

Walter Skinner watched her hungrily.Tonight, he might finally feed that hunger. 

End Part 4


	5. Impatient

Title:IMPATIENT

Author: Annie

Rated R

Skinner /Scully Romance

Summary: The final chapter of the Haunted series.

Disclaimer: Scully, Mulder, Skinner, and Krycek, unfortunately, are the dream children of Chris Carter. I do not own them, no matter how I may delude myself about it. 

**IMPATIENT**

(Part 5 of the 'Haunted' series)

**By Annie**

           "So truly exquisite," Walter Skinner thought to himself, drinking in the sight across the table from him while he tasted his wine. Dana Scully was wearing black jeans and a soft mauve v-neck sweater, with little mauve-colored pearl buttons down the front. He wouldn't have thought that would be a good color for her, but somehow it enhanced her hair, her eyes, and her enticing, creamy skin.

            Plain and simply, she took his breath away, and made his insides smolder hungrily.

            For her own part, glancing at her boss, her date, over the top of the big menu she was perusing, Agent Dana Scully couldn't come up with the vocabulary she needed for what she was seeing. Delicious came to mind. Also luscious, sexy, sensual, and any other adjectives she could summon up. He was wearing khaki-colored pants and a black pullover sweater. Pullover was what she wanted him to do - as in pull it over his head and take it off.

            Plain and simply, he was driving her to distraction.

            She finally settled on a small order of linguini with clam sauce. Something that wouldn't take too long to prepare. Or to eat.

            AD Skinner ordered the same, and more wine for both of them, impatient with the work-related, Mulder-related small talk they had to keep up throughout the meal.

As if he didn't want to leap over the table and rip her clothes off. She was in immediate danger of being eaten alive.

            She knew it.

            Scully was making the small talk as impatiently as her Assistant Director. She kept imagining him naked, sitting across from her, and the flush of heat suffusing her entire being kept her slightly off base. Most of the time she didn't even know what they were talking about. Dinner was a formality they had to go through. They both knew that only the after-dinner events had any real importance.

            She had met him at the restaurant, so as they left, they came to an important fork in the road. Separate cars to separate apartments; or what?

            "I'll follow you, just to make sure you get home all right," Skinner said, making it almost sound like a command.

            Images were flying through his mind; naked limbs and breasts, kissing, sucking, and the thought flashed through his brain suddenly that Agent Mulder would call Scully's apartment. He would want to see what happened after dinner, for surely she had told him she was going out. For some reason, Fox Mulder was amused by this sexual tension between his two co-workers.

            He paused, making up his mind in a split second. He knew right where he wanted the evening to go.

            "You've never seen the view from my balcony, have you?" he asked, pushing the image of Alex Krycek and handcuffs from his mind forcefully.

            "No, I haven't," she replied softly, heart pounding in her chest. If he listened carefully enough, he could probably hear it. If she reached up and pulled his head onto her breast, he would surely hear it. The thought made her dizzy.

            "I have wine," he teased, adding fuel to the fire.

            She followed him to his building in her own car, glad for the small respite from the constant state of aching that being in his presence produced in her. She met him again at the front door of his tall building. They were out of small talk now, and they didn't even meet each others' gaze as they got on the elevators, acutely aware of the heat coming from each others' body in the small space. There were only two others on the elevator with them, but Skinner's apartment was way up there, so by the time they were halfway up, they were crushed into a back corner. There seemed to be a lot of people coming from dinner and shopping all of a sudden.

            Scully's back was up against her boss's front, and she thought she would melt right then. She could smell him, and it sent her reeling into desire so intense she thought she would never be able to control herself. She had never, ever, felt such yearning for another human being.

            Skinner had his eyes closed, inhaling the essence of the woman pressed into him. He was going to explode soon. He put his hands on the softness of her sweater, on her shoulders, sliding his big hands down her upper arms slowly, making sure to brush the sides of her breasts with his knuckles. It set him on fire.

            Scully nearly gasped aloud when his hands brushed her breasts, but she was very aware of the crush of people in the enclosed space with them. She could feel the intense heat pouring from the man behind her, and she leaned back experimentally, pushing against the magnificent hardening at his groin. Skinner's hips ground forward against her, instinctively, before he could control himself.

            When they finally reached his floor, they practically clawed their way out of the elevator, leaving a few disgruntled people behind, and not caring in the least.

            Inside his apartment, Walter Skinner was a paragon of self-control. He could take his time now, he thought, and he deliberately turned off the ringer on his phone on the way to the kitchen to find the wine. Scully looked around curiously, comparing the reality of Skinner's home with what she had imagined on those numerous occasions when the want and need for him transcended any conscious thought and propelled her into the fantasy world of unrequited lust.

            She wandered to the balcony doors, taking in the view of the city laid out before her. She saw Skinner's reflection emerge from the kitchen behind her. She waited.

            Skinner stopped in the kitchen doorway, full glass of chilled wine in each hand, taking in the view before him. Hungrily. He regained control of his muscles and moved forward, coming up behind her, wrapping his right arm around her to hand her the wine.

            "It's a bit chilly out there," he told her.

            "That's okay," she said, smiling up into his dark eyes, drowning there. "I'd still like to go out."

            He obliged her by opening the balcony door, his eyes never leaving her face, still almost unable to believe she could be here, alone with him. His heart was pounding in his ears.

            Scully walked to the railing and sighed. "The view is great here," she said, sipping the wine thoughtfully, wondering to herself if she would have to ravage the man to get him to unbend. And more than willing to do so.

            Skinner was still looking at her.

            "The view is breath-taking right now," he replied quietly, moving in close to her, diminishing the distance between them inexorably.

            "Sir...Walter, I mean, I..." She put her hand on his chest, stopping him, burning through to his heart.

            He ground his molars in sheer exasperation.

            "Agent Scully, do you want to go home?" he asked, more gruffly than he meant to.

            She looked confused for a fleeting moment, the breeze ruffling the flame of her hair and blowing it into her eyes, hiding her expression.

            She smiled beautifully, but he didn't return the gesture.

            "Going home is the last thing I want to do right now," she explained, taking his glass from him. She took a few steps back and set both glasses on the floor by the railing.

            "And what's the first thing you want to do?" he inquired solemnly, much less challengingly than his last question.

            She didn't answer him. She simply leaned into him, burying her face in his neck and inhaling deeply.

            "You smell so good," she whispered, running her hands up the front of his sweater, massaging his chest through the thick material. She raised her head and licked the clean-shaven skin under his jaw. 

            "You taste so good," she added, so quietly she could almost have been speaking to herself.

            Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the F.B.I., was losing what small modicum of control he had managed to maintain all evening. His big hands were on her arms now, moving upward, and he wanted nothing more than to rip the sweater off and fling it over the balcony.

            Her hands went back down to his waist and snaked up into his sweater, running up over the muscular chest, bare hands on bare skin. "You feel so good," she moaned. She swept her fingers over his nipples, and he gasped and squeezed her shoulders tightly.

            He bent his head to whisper in her ear, almost unable to speak, all he wanted to do was push into her with all his considerable strength and cry out with the ecstasy of it.

"You are very close to the point of no return," he warned her, breathing harshly. "Another second or two, and I will not be responsible. I will not be able to control myself; I can hardly do it now. I have waited for so long for you, longer than I ever waited for anyone. And I want you more than I ever wanted anyone!"

            "Patience is a virtue," Scully informed him softly. Her hand trailed down to trace the outline of the rock-hard bulge in his pants. "But can we be a little impatient now, and take our time later?" she asked.

            Before he could answer her, she had crushed her mouth to his, trying to remove his glasses and sweater at the same time. He pulled away briefly, to pull the sweater off, and drop it and the glasses to the cement floor. He remembered where they were when the cool air hit his bare chest, but at this point, he didn't care. The chilly breeze was stark contrast to the burning of her hands and the fiery trail she began to blaze with her lips, across his jaw, down his throat and chest to his nipples. Scully bit them gently, just once, and he twisted his fingers into her hair savagely, pulling her face back up to his to devour her mouth.

            He had to be dreaming. He couldn't possibly be here, with Dana Scully, like this. On his balcony. At least it was dark. She was crushing him back against the wrought-iron railing, and somewhere in the back of his mind he prayed it would hold against the stress. It had always seemed very strong, though, and he pushed the thought from his reeling mind. He had other things to concentrate on right now.

            Skinner's hands raced to the front of her sweater and, not wanting to bother with the buttons, he just pulled it right over her head, flinging it in the direction of the balcony door. Her bra disappeared next, in the same general direction, and Skinner broke away from her seeking mouth to rest his head on her chest.

She moaned softly and pulled herself to him. He cupped her breasts in his hands - her so-perfect breasts - and spent a little time there, licking the soft flesh, sucking the luscious nipples.

            Scully stopped him abruptly, breathing raggedly. She kissed him again.

            "Get these off!" she demanded into his open mouth, pulling at his pants impatiently, then rushing out of her own jeans and panties.

            She pushed onto him roughly and he groaned into her mouth. She was doing something that was knocking him off balance. Then he realized she was climbing onto his waist, bracing herself by putting her feet on the railing behind him, one on either side of him, legs wrapped around him, her mouth still crushed to his. They were cloaked in darkness, caressed by the cool breeze, and Walter Skinner was in Heaven. Burning up, but in Heaven.

            "Fuck me! Do it now!" she demanded, trying to reach down to help guide him into her. He was light-headed with the rush of blood gone to his groin. He couldn't ever remember his cock being so huge, so hard, and Scully was sucking it all in, swallowing his mouth with hers, swallowing his cock with the very core of her being. He chewed on her mouth, groaning into her, pumping into her viciously, out here on his balcony, in the black of night. His cock was burning up, reaching for release. Skinner thought he wouldn't be able to control himself another second, when Scully jammed herself onto him urgently, gasping for breath through an intense orgasm.

            She laid her head on his shoulder, biting on his neck, murmuring, "Come, come now, I want all of you!"

            Skinner didn't need any more urging, he was ready to explode as it was. His orgasm took his breath away painfully, went on and on, and when he finally came to his senses and lowered her gently off him, kissing her all the way down, he was very grateful to the architect for putting in strong balcony railings.

            He kissed Scully tenderly a few minutes, not at all surprised when his cock started to regain it's rigid, aching stature. She reached down and took it in her hand.

            "Get the wine," she whispered. "I want to go inside and demonstrate patience now."

            Skinner thought that was probably a good idea. He didn't want to entertain the neighborhood any longer tonight.

            He closed the balcony door behind him and regarded Scully, amused.

            "Agent Scully," he began, "Let's just see how patient you really are!"

            He took her hand and led her to the bedroom.

THE END

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